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Great Wall Institute: The Process of the Great Wall of Los Angeles

Chicano Moratorium

Contents of this path:

“After leaving the Brown Berets, Arellanes — along with Jensen and her sister, Grace; Andrea and Esther Sánchez; Lorraine Escalante; Yolanda Solis; and Arlene Sánchez — founded Las Adelitas de Aztlán. The name referred to the soldaderas who fought alongside the men during the Mexican Revolution. They invited members of the community to join them and on Feb. 28, 1970, they made their public debut at the second anti-war moratorium in East Los Angeles.” Members of Las Adelitas de Aztlán at the second Chicano Moratorium protest against the Vietnam War on Feb. 28, 1970. At right is Hilda Reyes. They marched in the rain under a banner made by Gloria Arellanes and other members of the group. Las Adelitas dissolved later that year.
“The National Chicano Moratorium Against the Vietnam War in East Los Angeles would become the biggest gathering of Mexican American demonstrators in U.S. history to that point, with about 20,000 people parading down Whittier Boulevard to what was then called Laguna Park — before widespread violence erupted when sheriff’s deputies stormed the park and skirmishes followed. Patrol cars and buildings were set on fire.”
Demonstrators arrived hot and exhausted, but excited to Laguna Park after the 3 mile march. Laguna Park, founded in 1940, became the Moratorium focal point as 20-30,000 exhausted antiwar demonstrators sat on park grass to hear speeches from 13 speakers, including Dolores Huerta, “Corky” Gonzales, César Chávez, activist lawyer Oscar Zeta Acosta, and Rosalío Muñoz. Besides opposing the Vietnam War and police brutality, speakers aimed to promoted Mexican American cultural pride, but few of them had the chance to deliver their remarks.
Consuelo Flores Remembers, age 9 in 1970. She remembered smoke — tear gas, shot into the crowds. Untold numbers of protesters were injured by deputies or while fleeing. ‘I’m 9 years old, and I’m seeing the cop who’s supposed to protect me, whacking” a young man, she recalled. ‘My [red] shoes just fall off, and I just keep running, I’m running with my bare feet, so now my feet are burning too, and ... I’m just trying to get home.’
Smoke rises above Whittier Blvd. from multiple fires points to the chaotic aftermath of the Chicano Moratorium march on Aug. 29, 1970. On Aug. 29, 1970, more than 20,000 demonstrators marched through East Los Angeles for the National Chicano Moratorium Against the Vietnam War. But the protest for peace devolved into conflict between demonstrators and sheriff’s deputies. By day’s end, hundreds were arrested and trailblazing Latino journalist Ruben Salazar was dead. Ultimately 3 died in the protests. What started as a peaceful demonstration, and what some folks felt was going to be a celebratory moment demanding peace, turned into violence & chaos.
“Anyone who has worked a police beat as a reporter, as I have, knows that policemen tend to have difference attitudes toward enforcing the law depending on the social, financial and racial makeup of the people they deal with.” -Ruben Salazar Journalist Rubén Salazar and camera operator Guillermo Restrepo trailed after police who were chasing people east down Whittier Blvd. They eventually stopped at the Silver Dollar Bar and Café. That was where Los Angeles County deputy sheriff Tom Wilson said he fired the tear gas canister that struck Salazar in the head. Rubén Salazar was both the news director at Spanish language TV station KMEX and a columnist for the Los Angeles Times.
Trauma from the fallout of the 3rd Chicano Moratorium. “After the Chicano Moratorium, I said no way am I going to put myself in jeopardy ever again,” Jensen says. “Because that’s how scared I was.” Jensen stopped organizing. Arellanes: “To see all that tragedy and that violence and get tear gassed, to see people screaming and running for their lives. It destroys something in you when you see that much pain.” Later, when Arellanes raised her two sons, she wouldn’t even let them have water guns.
Chicano Moratorium Committee anti-war demonstrators gather in East L.A. "The biggest, bloodiest disturbance in Los Angeles since Watts five years earlier lasted several hours. When it was over, Los Angeles Times columnist Ruben Salazar was dead and two others mortally wounded, about 200 people were under arrest, 75 law enforcement officers and untold numbers of demonstrators were injured, 95 county vehicles were destroyed or damaged, 44 buildings were pillaged and eight major fires had been set.” “After the Chicano Moratorium, I said no way am I going to put myself in jeopardy ever again,” Jensen says. “Because that’s how scared I was.” Jensen stopped organizing
Raul Ruiz lays a Mexican flag atop the corpse of Gustav Montag, during a 1971 protest in East Los Angeles. Three people died on Aug. 29, 1970 Moratorium. They included: LA Times journalist and KMEX (Ch. 34) news director Rubén Salazar, Gilberto Diaz (Angel Gilbert Diaz) and Lyn Ward. During a 1971 protest, Gustav Montag was murdered by police. Identified as Jewish, Montag was the fourth casualty in East LA of the organized moratoriums. This moratorium was held on February 2, 1971.
Police Subdue Young Chicano Protester in East Los Angeles, February 2nd, 1971. Sheriff Deputies tussle with a youthful demonstrator who was caught after trying to break through police lines after the area of East Los Angeles had been declared an unlawful assembly. After a peaceful Chicano Moratorium rally at Belvedere Park, a rock throwing melee started, and several hours later one person was reported dead and three were injured. Several fires had been started in the area.
Stations of the Cross was a walking “ritual of resistance” against what the performance group Asco considered the “useless deaths” taking place in Vietnam. The male members of the group (which originally comprised Harry Gamboa Jr., Gronk, Willie Herrón III, and Patssi Valdez) paraded down Whittier Boulevard in East Los Angeles, with Herrón as a Christ/death figure bearing a large cardboard cross. The quasi-Passion Play ended with the trio blocking a U.S. Marines recruiting office with the cross, symbolically halting military recruitment from their Mexican American neighborhood.
Harry Gamboa Jr.: LA County sheriffs open fired on innocent students and protestors, and wounded and killed many people who were protesting against the war in Vietnam, and were also protesting against police violence, which was followed by a two to three-and-a-half year crackdown on young people gathering on the streets of East Los Angeles. At the time that we shot [First Supper After a Major Riot], we felt that it had been long enough. It was time for it to be extinguished. And so, we declared it to be a celebration. Willie Herrón: At the time of the Moratorium, I was in high school. I remember the procession originating at Belvedere Park, protesting the Vietnam War and all the Chicanos that lost their lives. The police brutality was incredible. It affected me quite a bit and I think it affected all of us. So that's why Whittier Boulevard became such an important street, and a place for us to conduct our performances and connect them to our community and the way society viewed us at the time.
Gronk: We decided that it was time that we would take action and actually use the streets once again. We would take over a street or a neighborhood and activate it in some way. Pattsi Valdez: These performances usually happened really quickly. An idea would be sparked and then we'd gather all our stuff and Harry would pick us all up, and we'd put everything in the car, and then we'd zoom off into the city and find the location.I think it was a combination of performance art and protest. For me, it was very important to try to get noticed because I had things to say. I felt like I had to do it in a big way, so that the viewer would pay attention. The look, the make-up: I needed for you to pay attention, because I had a message. Gronk: During the performance, people either honked their horns or cheered us on. But also in the back of our minds…at the time a phone call was ten cents, so we all had ten cents in our pocket just in case we had to make that phone call from jail.
David Sandoval Papers, Special Collections, John F. Kennedy Memorial Library, California Sate University, LA - Sheriff's deputies outside the Silver Dollar, August 29, 1970. Salazar was born in Juarez, Mexico but emigrated to the U.S. with his family when he was an infant. As an immigrant living in Texas during the Great Depression, he had much to overcome. He would later recall that it was common to see signs that read "No Dogs, Negroes, and Mexicans" on public establishments. Still, he enlisted in the Armed Forces and went to college on the GI Bill. He become the managing editor of his college newspaper and used his regular column to speak out against racism and McCarthyism. An accomplished journalist, Salazar earned his credentials reporting from the trenches. He used his bilingual skill and knowledge of the barrio to do in depth reporting in El Paso, Texas, and later in California where he was hired by the Los Angeles Times, where he covered political, social and other news, with a special focus on major developments in the Mexican American community. As The Times' first Mexican American foreign correspondent, Salazar would report on the Vietnam War, Central America and the Olympics in Mexico City. In 1969 The Times brought him back to Los Angeles, where he would cover the growing Chicano movement, fast becoming national news. Salazar would go on to write about the changing attitudes, lives and activities of people living in Los Angeles' barrios during those turbulent times. In 1970, as a Times columnist and Spanish language news editor, he advocated on behalf of the community and welcomed the Chicano movement. To Salazar, journalism was more than just a career; it was a vehicle for democracy. He saw journalism as a way to influence public opinion and create change. On the flipside, however, it meant he would constantly be under the critical eye of those interested in maintaining the status quo, and would have to learn how to subtly and gradually break down stereotypes in order to push the social justice movement forward. He covered a wide variety of events and topics, which enabled him to find ways to get barrio realities recognized as news. That in turn helped the Mexican American community see itself as newsmakers, and history makers. Ruben Salazar was becoming an activist journalist when his life was cut short, killed by a sheriff's tear gas canister while covering the Chicano Moratorium on August 29, 1970. According to the coroner's report he was wearing the demonstrations' green, white and red button: "CHICANO MORATORIUM 8,000 Dead ¡YA BASTA! L.A. Aug. 29." He was just 42 years old. This article was originally published on EGPNews.com.